It looked like the kind of place where children left bicycles in the grass and neighbors borrowed sugar.
That was what made it worse.
María knocked first.
Five seconds.
Ten.
Then the door opened.
A tall man in his forties stood there in jeans and a gray T-shirt, his expression calm enough to seem practiced.
—”Evening, officers.”
Daniel kept his eyes on him.
—”We received a 911 call from this address.”
The man’s face barely shifted.
—”Then someone made a mistake.”
—”A little girl called,” Daniel said.
